


If I move my hands fast enough, I won’t die

by alexisntedgy



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Disability, Drunk Murdoc Niccals, Gen, Sad, Tourette's Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 17:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22347091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexisntedgy/pseuds/alexisntedgy
Summary: Murdoc Niccals has Tourette’s syndrome, this is the story of his journey.Because nobody else has written about this headcanon yet!!This will probably be a place to keep Tourettes!murdoc ficlets and one shots!!! For context, I (the author) have a tic disorder :)
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals & Noodle, Murdoc Niccals & Stuart "2D" Pot, Russel Hobbs & Murdoc Niccals
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	1. Movements

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favourite headcanons is that Murdoc makes those bizarre noises and random movements because he has Tourette’s- this is a ficlet about that !!!

Murdoc was eight when it started. 

Quiet, small, the movements quick and barely noticeable unless you knew what you were looking for. His eyes would twitch and roll back, his mouth would contort to make small clicking noises. 

He didn’t want it to happen. It was never intentional, it just happened, and he had no idea why- and, for a long time, he thought maybe he never would. 

As he got a little older, the twitches became full-blown movements, his lips smacking together became bizarre noises. The kids would look at him weird at school, and Murdoc would stare them down, and they would look away, pretending they weren’t listening. But everybody did that, it was difficult to not notice the twelve-year-old suddenly making a loud, grotesque-sounding noise. 

They’d look at him, even the adults, and then they’d look ways, innocent, as if they’d never been staring at all. 

Murdoc, as a child, had never dreamt, not in a million years, that there was a word for what he was experiencing. He’d assumed he was a freak, an abnormal specimen of humanity, and this belief was best into him by his father, who would scowl at the movements, and Murdoc wanted so, so hard to tell him that he couldn’t control it. 

He wasn’t trying to start trouble when he smacked down on his desk loudly, his arm moving of it’s own accord. He often did start trouble, but he felt small and uncomfortable when people stared at him for the movements. 

So he played them off. A loud, uncomfortable, sudden laugh without context? That was just Murdoc Niccals, you know. They became part of who he was as a person, the now very obvious sounds and movements were something he played off very well, like he had meant to do it, like he hadn’t been holding it in for 3 minutes before it leapt out of him before he could stop him. 

So he stopped putting a cork in it, at school, at least. He was loud, and he twitched, and his arms would fling out randomly, and he’d yell out swear words and it was just him. Nobody knew it wasn’t intentional, they all just assumed it was Murdoc messing around. 

And then he discovered music. The way his fingers would glide across the bass, the thump-thump-thump coursing through his veins, reverberating in his chest. And the movements would slow, they’d pause for a few minutes, as he played in his bedroom. It wasn’t beautiful not yet, but it helped, and that was a miracle on it’s own. 

His eyes weren’t moving up and down without him telling them to, he wasn’t shouting out curse words unless he wanted to. And after playing a bass for the first time, he knew what he wanted to do for the rest of his life- no matter what he had to do to get it.


	2. I’m Losing Touch (And I’m Not Enough For Them)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc tics during one of his pub performances, and the pay-back from his father isn’t exactly kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of violence, child abuse, severe cursing, domestic violence.

"YOU FUCKING FREAK!"

The scream echoed through the house, probably through the neighbour’s houses as well, and Murdoc looked across the room as he closed the front door behind him to see his father, red in the face and very, very angry. 

"I had 20 POUNDS betting on YOUR ARSE, but you can’t even FUCKING DANCE WITHOUT MAKING THOSE STUPID FUCKING SOUNDS." 

Murdoc had just returned from another ‘performance’ at the pub, and Sebastian was not at all impressed- Murdoc had ticced very loudly during the performance, and now, he would have to pay for it. He knew crying wouldn’t help, becoming small wouldn’t help. He was used to this, now, using his survival skills in a place where, really, he should’ve been safe all along. 

He got under the table as his father threw a book at him, and Murdoc snickered when he noticed it was, ironically, the bible. Another book was hurled his way- a strangely heavy copy of little women - and Murdoc made a dash for the hallway when his father ran up behind him and pulled him backwards, slamming him into the wall. The back of his head hurt, so bad, but it was nothing new. 

Murdoc could smell the rum on his father’s breath, and it made him feel sick. He could see into his father’s eyes, but he couldn’t see a single shred of humanity, of kindness- and he doubted he ever would. 

"Listen here, you little brat. One more fuck-up on that stage and you’re DONE FOR. You will BEG for the opportunity to make those stupid little sounds again. Actually, you know what? I’ll CUT OFF YOUR MOUTH. Yeah, that’s right. The whole thing. We’ve got some bloody nice knives in that kitchen..."

Sebastian went quiet, his breathing heavy, before dropping Murdoc back onto the floor. He turned back around, and bent down. "You better have learnt your fucking lesson." He punched Murdoc in the face for good measure, and Murdoc’s vision went blurry- but once again, it was nothing new. 

Murdoc could feel that his nose was bleeding, and that his head would be sore for the next few days, and he knew his throat was bruised from being held up against the wall- but right now, he had to run. 

He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, closed his door, and slowly, quietly, he sat down on his bed. There was no tears, no crying, just silence. 

Just another night in the Niccals household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst baby


	3. Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc finds out he has Tourette’s.

Murdoc was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome just a year before Gorillaz formed, and although at the time he loathed his diagnosis, he would be thankful for it in the end. 

It was 1997, and very, very few people were diagnosed with Tourette’s- especially in the UK. Most cases were in America. 

Murdoc waltzed into the doctor’s office, his name had been called and he sat down in the chair facing his doctor, Dr Anthony, and smiled a fanged grin. "Alrighty, Mr Doctor, what are we ‘ere for then?" Murdoc said, kicking back in his chair. The doctor looked at him confusedly and shook his head, before speaking: "Murdoc, you booked an appointment. But I believe, last time we saw each other, I suggested we have a closer look at those tics of yours?"

Murdoc’s smile dampened a little. 

All his life, he had ignored his tics, and had assimilated them into his personality in such a way that they were a part of him how. Murdoc wasn’t Murdoc without the weird, sudden noises, everybody knew that. 

"If you’d like to, yeah, why not?" 

Murdoc let out a sudden laugh- clearly not intentionally- and continued; "honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s just me, or maybe I’m cursed or some shit. Who knows. But it doesn’t bother me, anyway." 

Dr Anthony nodded, taking out some papers from his drawer and looking at them closely. "Okay, Murdoc: do you experience vocal tics? The obvious answer is yes, but I need you to answer these questions for diagnosis anyway." 

Murdoc looked down for a millisecond, before looking back up, his false confidence and glory restored. "What the fuck is a vocal tic? Sounds like a weird creepy crawly if you ask me." He leant back even further in his chair, and the doctor rolled his eyes. 

"A vocal tic is a sound you make or a word you say without meaning to, it’s uncontrollable and you can’t stop it." Dr Anthony replied, his tone serious and quiet. He was tired of Murdoc’s antics already, even if he knew that they were a cover for his real emotions. 

Those words described what Murdoc had been experiencing all his life just a little too well, and he looked up, eyes wide, a little confused. "I- I definitely experience that." He said, his tone changing very quickly. Murdoc rubbed his hands together. 

"Okay, and you experience the same thing but with bodily movements? Like-"

Murdoc let out a quiet but very noticeable squeaking sound- 

"Like your arms moving suddenly, or your eyes twitching, or other small, unintentional movements like that?"

Murdoc thought for a moment. Yes, he did often find his left eye twitching upwards or moving around, and his arms would sometimes fling upwards, as if in a show of celebration. It was never something he’d stopped to think about for too long, but now he was realising that it wasn’t normal, and that it was unintentional. 

Some of these movements weren’t noticeable enough for others to see them, although many of them were. But he spent so long with his calf muscles twitching until they hurt, or his toes crunching, and it really, really did hurt, even if other people couldn’t see it. 

"Yes. Yes, that does happen to me." Murdoc said in an uncharacteristically small voice. 

"And how often do you experience these tics?"

"Every day of my life."

Dr Anthony took the paper and marked some things on it. "How long have you been experiencing these symptoms?" He asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose. 

Murdoc thought. There wasn’t a time he could really remember where these tics weren’t a part of him Maybe, when he was really young, they weren’t there, but they must’ve started during childhood. 

"When I was a kid, they started, just small ones though."

Dr Anthony nodded again, marked something else on the paper, and looked up at Murdoc. "Murdoc, you have Tourette’s syndrome. Given your medical history, I have no reason to believe it is anything else or anything medically dangerous."

Murdoc looked confused. "Tourettes? Isn’t that where people shout out, like, swear words and shit like that?" 

The doctor shook his head and gave a quiet chuckle. "It can be- but not for most people. For you, it’s all the movements you’re experiencing that you’re not doing on purpose."

When Murdoc walked out of the doctor’s office that day, he didn’t feel pain, he felt relief- he had a word to put to these symptoms, he knew he wasn’t a freak, that there was other people like him. 

That made him feel a little better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u liked it :)


End file.
